Friday, November 11, 1977 Weekender 3
Concertgoers' tough decision: who to see this weekend
CSN heads list of
wri T-TTTmnn-nro--iFrTnwiip- iiny! miiii., liH.H'i.iiuruU'JlV'm1 mi
t X i
: W :
' -f I
1, ry -' l I
, . t i
? ""i J
David Crosby (left), Graham Nash (center) arid Stephen Sills
will appear in concert Saturday night in the Greensboro
Coliseum. The trio cut its first album eight years ago, and the
various members have been together off and on during the
interim. Area concertgoers will also have a chance to see
Weather Report, Count Basie and Ella Fitzgerald, Gary Burton
and new local group, Nightshift, in concert this weekend.
Enthusiasts of contemporary music have a
dilemma on their hands this weekend.
The question is whether to go see Crosby,
Stills and Nash in the Greensboro Coliseum
Saturday night or to enjoy Count Basie and
EUa Fitzgerald in Duke's Cameron Indoor
Stadium the same night.
Or should one save his money and sec
Weather Report in Carmichael Auditorium
Friday night and catch Gary Burton at the
Mad Hatter Sunday?
Or should the local music fan support
Chapel Hill music and watch Nightshift
make their debut Friday at the Mad Hatter?
Whatever the ultimate decision, our fan
should be satisfied. The central Piedmont
area rarely sees such a dramat ic influx of big
Please turn to page 5.
Miscasting hurts 'Bobby Deerfield's credibility
If there's one thing we don't need, it's
another Love Story among the jet set. Bobby
Deerfield may not have the mawkish
sentimentality of the Erich Segal story, but it
still manages to be ridiculous. From the very
first sliot of Al Pacino strolling along a
deserted racetrack with his sunglasses and
leisure, suit on, you can't help but think,
"He's no race car driver." There's hardly one
believable moment in the entire film, and the
casting is part of the problem.
Pacino is supposed to be playing an
emotional zero, a racer whose attachments
to other persons are superficial at best, and
whose feelings are kept in perpetual check.
The role' originally was slated for Paul
Newman, who would have been much more
appropriate, because the central force
behind the character of Bobby Deerfield is
the kind of macho ideal that drives a man to
disassociate himself from the emotions that
he feels can clutter, his life. Newman can
exude this sort of persona; Pacino cannot.
I've always associated Pacino with an ethnic
earthiness. Even playing the emotionally
wrecked, self-righteous Michael in the latter
parts of Godfather II, he has a coolness that
is all his own. If Pacino has a sort of macho
image, it isn't the traditional kind you get
from Newman, Redford or Caan.
This presents the film's major problem,
since the scriptwriter's central conceit is how
the girl (Marthe Keller) Deerfield falls in
love with, cures him of his emotional
impotence and makes him a more loving and
outgoing person. But when Deerfield finally
breaks through his protective shell, by
recreating the M ae West imitation he did as a
child, the moment is absurd and the audience
can't help but laugh. If the filmmakers
wanted Bobby Xo admit to the feminine
aspects of his character, they could have
come up with a better way. As it stands, the
scene ranks as one of the more
uncomfortably silly ones of late.
By HANK BAKER
Once Bobby does open up, Pacino's
performance gets better he's doing what he
knows how to do. As the emotionless Bobby
in the first two-thirds of the film, he is forced
and unconvincing. This time going against
the grain doesn't work, but it's probably a
momentary lapse in Pacino's judgment. He
is, along with Robert De Niro and Gene
Hackman, one of this country's most
powerful actors. Marthe Keller, as his love,
mistakes hyperactivity for spontaneity. She's
a bundle of nerves; her energy as an actress
flies around, but it's directionless. She's
affecting in some of the quieter scenes, but
Everything You Wanted to
Human Sexuality Information and
Counseling Service Offers
Information & Peer Counseling . . .
CALL OR WALK IN
933-5505 SUITE B
"But Didn't Know Where To Ask
Keller can't get beyond the surface of her
character. She isn't helped by the script,
because Alvin Sargeant, the jvriter, doesn't
know what to make of her either. Marthe
Keller is a beautiful woman, and she has
grace and charm, but she can't rise above the
Sydney Pollock, whose career has taken a
downward leap since They Shoot Horses.
Don't They?, directs this mess in his usual
disinterested manner. What is surprising is
the lack of romanticism. By that I don't
mean sentiment, but a true romantic drive in
the material and the director. What, is
particularly irritating is that every time a
lyrical shot is presented for us, Pollack cuts
away from it. Is he trying to be hip and
modern by denying even a little pleasure like
that? With all the great French scenery
surrounding the characters, ; youd think
Pollack would let us enjoy it as something
more than a travelogue backdrop.
For all its big budget, Bobby Deerfield is
one of the worst edited films I've seen. Scenes
are edited in a hurried manner as if Pollack
were trying to lurch his way through the film.
The racing scenes are surprisingly bad.
Except when the camera is in Pacino's car,
there is only a chaotic jumble of hurried
shots and cuts passing off as sequence.
I doubt many persons are going to be
fooled by this junk. Many in the audience
were snickering during many of the scenes,
particularly one in which Pacino reaches
over to caress Keller's hair, only to have a
wad if it come off in his hand. There was a
loud moan from the back when the dying
Keller asks Pacino near the film's end,
"Bobby, do you love me?" The idiocy of all
this is stupefying. Where does the appeal, if
any, come from? The waste of talent and the
ineptitude involved in Bobby Deerfield are
bad enough, but to call it good
entertainment is like willfully stunting your
II U If h
t ' M.WV.'f, It:,,-. ,..! -A- w
I III nr. I i -. ..II . - " -i if.